Open Road and Cold Hearts
by Paul Benjamin Callahan
Summary: Two young men, barely out of adolescence, seek revenge on the slavers that drastically changed their lives. When they realize they cannot complete their task alone, they seek out the Lone Wanderer. Together, the three will journey across the wasteland in search of revenge. They will follow their target to the ends of the earth, and to Hell if they must.


_"Something had changed. He looked everywhere, and feeling it everywhere, wondered what this could be. Then he knew: it was the sun that had gone entirely behind the mountains, and he drew out his pistol_._"_

_-_Owen Wister, _The Virginian _

**December 2, 2285**

**Appalachian Mountains **

The three men on the porch of the cabin stood, in shock, watching the smoke rise from farther down the mountain. Somehow, this could not be real. The town of Manzanita Falls was where the smoke was rising, and they had no idea why. Perhaps the winded, panting teenager that stood at the foot of the porch could explain why. Hopefully, at least.

The tallest figure on the porch, a dark-skinned man of six feet four inches, walked out from under the overhang. He was, despite his rough appearance, only a meager twenty-seven. However, he looked five years older, on account of the places he had been, and the things he had seen. He had jet black hair that fell to his collar, and sported rough stubble which made the faint outline of a beard. The rugged clothes on his back , reminiscent of a figure from either the Old West, or the Outback. Despite his age, he was renowned across the northeast, from Maryland to Pittsburgh, as a legend.

He was the Lone Wanderer, back from the dead.

Or, at least found once again. After finding his father and helping begin Project Purity, the Lone Wanderer began making exploits in other parts of the Capital Wasteland, and helped the Brotherhood of Steel completely eradicate the Enclave from Washington D.C. Then he journeyed to the Pitt, the slaving capital of the eastern wastes. And, his last doing in the Capital Wasteland was going to Maryland, to a place called Point Lookout.

What happened there at the Point is unclear, but upon returning he quickly packed his bags and fled to the Appalachian Mountains his only excuse being that he had become too dangerous for the people he loved. That had occurred in 2278.

The Appalachians had not been his destination. He wandered for some time, venturing north to the Commonwealth, and even down into Virginia. Nowhere called out to him until he ventured west into the mountains, and had come across the small mountain community of Manzanita Falls. Immediately the townsfolk welcomed him. He was a valuable asset to them, and he enjoyed their company. The town, when he arrived, had been under constant attack from bandits. Using the training he acquired in Point Lookout, he trained the citizens of Manzanita Falls, and moved further up the mountain. Once there, he built a cabin near the peak, and settled down. He still interacted with the town, receiving supplies and various other necessities. He had lived nice until his two companions found him.

As well, his two companions were the opposite from the Lone Wanderer.

Both were merely nineteen, only months apart. One hailed from Big Town, the other from Megaton, where the two had been living when the slavers came. They were both naïve and inexperienced, which was why they had chosen to find the Lone Wanderer after leaving Megaton, though this had not been their original plan.

The older of the two was Roger Harris, a stubborn, handsome youth. A natural-born leader, and the cause of the youngsters' trip to the western edge of eastern civilization. Always seeming to have a plan, Roger stood at six feet two inches, not as tall as the Wanderer himself, but still would seem adequate in a fray. He had to prove himself in the trek out here many times. His normally clean complexion had smudges of wasteland dirt, and his innocent youth had been shattered months beforehand.

His friend was Bradley Collins, an intellectual. A bit smaller, at six feet, he was the person who carefully thought over his friend's plan, and used his vast intelligence to decide if it was rational or not. The thought of leaving Megaton, or the Capital Wasteland for that matter, had never crossed his mind before the slavers came to their home, and changed their lives forever.

The circumstances surrounding their adventure are a story in their own.

The two boys enjoyed life in Megaton thoroughly. Roger had a father who was an escaped slave; a friend of Hannibal Hamlin's. The two ventured across the Capital together, waging a war against slavery. Eventually, the elder Harris settled down in Big Town and started a family. He had two boys: Roger, the elder, and Martin, three years younger. The family enjoyed life in Big Town, hard as it was. However, Roger's father had a debt to pay.

In the years of Harris and Hamlin's attempt to end slavery in the Capital Wasteland, they came across a slaving group, one of the many operating out of The Pitt. The leader was a man named Daniels. Hamlin and Harris tracked the group's movements back and forth from Pittsburgh to Washington. The slavers were in charge of the transport of slaves from between the two locations, and Hamlin's freedom fighters tracked them down as they entered the Capital Wasteland one morning. In the ensuing battle, Daniels was shot and killed by Harris. For the moment, the victory was given to the anti-slavery movement.

Daniels, however, had a son named Malcolm, who filled his father's position in the slave trade. His group began operating again, and once again built an infamous reputation. Malcolm Daniels became known as The Overlord. And, on a fateful day in 2277, he journeyed to Big Town alone to kill elder Harris. He succeeded, and promised a vengeful Roger Harris that he would return to exact complete revenge on the rest of the family.

After his father's murder, Roger took his mother and brother to Megaton, a safer location. There, in October of 2285, The Overlord kept his promise and returned, this time with his full slaving group. They attacked the city, killing civilians alike, before the town surrendered. The townsfolk were lined up, and the selection began. Daniels had done his homework; planting an informant in Megaton to keep his eye on Roger and his family before the raid. At the selection, he took two people only: Martin Harris, and Emily West, the girl Roger was seeing at the time.

In addition to the enslaving of the two, Daniels executed the Harris' mother. The attack lasted a total of two hours. In and out, very quick and very simple.

Roger had wanted to chase after them, into the wastes, but a tough old raider named Jericho stopped him, and told him the correct way to handle things. So a week later Roger and Bradley began their epic quest, to hunt down Malcolm Daniels and his band of slavers, and rescue Emily West and Martin.

The pair realized soon into their expedition that they were not experienced enough to successfully track and fight and well organized and trained slaving outfit, and the decision was made to find the Lone Wanderer. After two months of searching, they found him high in the Appalachian Mountains, living a solitary life, the nearest town five miles down the mountain.

Now Roger, Bradley, and the Lone Wanderer were standing on the porch of the cabin, staring in confusion at the smoke from Manzanita Falls and at the still-panting runner. The two friends had only found the cabin with the Lone Wanderer four hours before the man ran shouting up the trail. It was getting on to late evening, around six thirty.

As they stood in awe of the smoke and the panting youth, a dog ran out of the cabin door and towards the man. The dog was Finn, and belonged to the Lone Wanderer. He found him in a junkyard in the days when he patrolled the D.C. ruins. At that time, Finn was just a puppy. The Wanderer had taken him under his wing, and the two had become best pals since then. The dog was an Australian Shepherd, not typical to the wasteland's large population of German Shepherds and other mutts. An old, partially burnt Pre-War book on dogs had described the breed, though the Lone Wanderer didn't know what the hell an "Australian" was. He didn't mind, he loved the dog nevertheless.

The Lone Wanderer stepped off the porch. "Billy, what happened?" he asked. His voice sounded easy, yet alert. The runner, Billy, a small African-American, shook his head and coughed.

"This morning...about twenty of 'em..." he panted.

"Twenty who, Billy?" the Lone Wanderer asked, this time more assertive.

"I don't know...seemed like raiders...slavers maybe, had some collars with them...kept talking asking a leader guy about 'purchases'..." the kid wheezed and coughed some more.

The Lone Wanderer wheeled around to the youngsters on his porch. "Did you two say something about a slaver group you were tracking?"

Roger shrugged. "Not exactly. We need your help. To track them, I mean,"

Turning back, Billy continued. "They came this morning, Hawkeye. Ran into town firing away. They made us all line up in the street, and they asked us questions about you two," he looked in Roger and Bradley's direction, "but we didn't say nothin' at first...and then they burnt down the medical clinic..."

"Sounds like Daniels," Bradley growled. The Lone Wanderer - Hawkeye, Billy called him - turned back around and gave him a look that asked "_Who the hell is Daniels?" _

"They were threatening us, so we said we sent them up the mountain...and then suddenly they all followed the leader guy into the woods...not even up the mountain, just into the woods..." Billy stammered slightly.

Hawkeye put a hand on his shoulder. He was about to speak when Roger stepped down from the porch. "What did the leader look like?" he demanded.

Billy cowered from him. "Um, he was short and skinny...with a spiked mohawk. I think he carried an assault rifle, but then again so were most of all the people..."

Roger looked hopelessly at Bradley. "It isn't Daniels, then. He could have sent a small number of his unit. How did he find out we were tracking them?" he asked.

Bradley shrugged. "Maybe we left a few alive back at the outpost, or some escaped the town last night when it was attacked," he wondered aloud.

Aggravated, Hawkeye waved a hand. "It doesn't matter, we just need to prepare ourselves. Billy, go back to Manzanita. They need you down there. Don't take the trail, go through the woods. If those guys are coming up the trail, they won't hesitate to shoot you," he ordered. Billy nodded quickly, and turned to run back down the mountain.

Before he started, he turned his head around. "What are you going to do, Hawkeye?" he asked.

The Lone Wanderer looked at him, and at his two guests. "We're throw a welcoming party," he said. Billy seemed to like the idea, and began running to the treeline.

Hawkeye turned to Roger and Bradley.

"Okay, here's the plan: I have a gun stash in the panic room. We need to each pick out our starting points. Once there, we need to each have a set of fallback positions, in case they get past or we run out of ammo. We'll set up guns and ammo at each fallback position, loaded and ready for us to retreat. Then, we'll set up some traps. As for now, yeah, I'm the "Lone Wanderer" or whatever that guy at Galaxy News Radio is calling me these days. Don't bother asking for my name, you can call me Hawkeye," he asserted. Roger and Bradley didn't question him.

"Questions? No? Then let's get to work, shall we?"

Quickly, the three turned back into the cabin, Finn close behind. Roger and Bradley, having only been at the cabin for nearly four hours, were not accustomed to the layout. Inside the door, a living room was to their left, fully stocked with a lounger and a few sofa chairs and radio. A kitchen was on their right, with full gear. Straight ahead down a hallway on the left were two small guest bedrooms, and across from them a bathroom and a storeroom where Hawkeye stored weapons not in the Panic Room. At the end of the hallway a staircase led up to a the Lone Wanderer's suite, as well as a sitting area with a circular window looking outside. Outside and behind the cabin, facing up the ever steeping slope of the mountain, was a garage.

The cabin itself, woodwork and all, was very ornate for being built by one man. Skillfully carved logs, held together by a mud plaster formed the framework. The decor was very homely, Hawkeye's personal effects from Megaton. They cabin had a vague Pre-War American feel.

Hawkeye and the two friends went immediately to the Panic Room, which was accessed via a secret compartment under the staircase. What Roger had originally taken as a broom cupboard turned to be just that, except for the slide-away floor revealing a metal hatch. Down a ladder led them to the bunker-type Panic Room. Bradley wondered at how Hawkeye had built the room. It was a fairly average size; roughly the same size as a hotel or saloon room. However, a gun rack stood on one wall, as well as many boxes of ammunition. TV monitors covered another wall, showing various rooms of the cabin on the surface. Mattresses and a small kitchen area, stocked with supplies, were the only other effects in the room.

"You could live down here for a solid three months, and no one upstairs would know," Hawkeye pridefully stated. "I had to dig a pretty big size hole, as you can see. Some people from town helped me on it. Then I salvaged some metal to make the walls. The ladder can come break off of the opening topside, in case of intruders," he finished. The two youngsters gaped. Hawkeye gazed at their weapon loadout: a large-caliber hunting rifle, a worn assault rifle, and two .32 pistols. He sighed.

Walking over to the weapon rack, he pulled two .44 magnum revolvers and handed them each to the younger men. They placed them between their pants and shirts, in the back. For himself, he pulled a Chinese-made assault rifle and a ten millimeter pistol. The assault rifle he slung over his shoulder, and the pistol went in a holster on his right hip.

Next, he distributed to each of the young men a shotgun and second .44 magnum. Roger received a pump-action 20 gauge, and Bradley a specially made police shotgun, with a drum round. He told them again to pick out two fallback positions. From a cabinet under the gun rack he produced three walkie-talkies, three out of four he carried. They made decided on their starting positions: Bradley would take the hunting rifle and cover the upstairs window. Roger and Hawkeye would both work from downstairs, one in the kitchen and the other in the living room. Hawkeye said there was no chance from an attack from any direction other than the road. It wasn't logical, swinging around and coming down the mountain. Less cover, as the mountain grew bare as it went higher.

The three then climbed the ladder to the main floor, went to the storeroom, went about pulling together devices to be used as traps. Hawkeye showed them various designs, and gave them instructions as to where they should be placed. Bradley laid multiple bear traps, armed, throughout the woods surrounding the road and cabin.

The forest in the immediate vicinity was strange; it seemed to open out in a full circle around the cabin. The road was enclosed closely by foliage, until you got about thirty yards from the porch steps, where it opened out. Back around near the garage, the forest met again, and sloped gently to the peak of the mountain. The treeline, abrupt and thin, would provide minimal coverage for the coming slavers. They probably hoped to surprise the three in the cabin while they were asleep, and they probably had no idea a runner had been able to escape and bring the news of their attack.

While Bradley laid the bear traps, Hawkeye ran a tripwire across the road. He had dug three small holes, and in them placed three frag mines. Running a wire from the three mines to a box, he then ran that wire to the trip wire. Virtually invisible, once tripped, the wire would pull a pin on the box, causing an arm to fall down and resulting in the explosion of the three mines. The trail was not too small, and the three explosions would cover the entirety.

In the cabin, Roger retrieved a double-barreled shotgun from the Panic Room. He found a blanket stand, and set about to rig the shotgun to fire. He set the firearm in the hold of the stand, and pointed it at the doorway. It was in between the entranceway to both the kitchen and living room. He attached a string to the trigger and the door to the cabin, rigging it to where once the door was thrown open, the gun would fire.

The traps set, each man returned to the cabin, careful to avoid the front door. Hawkeye distributed each a box of ammunition, which was stockpiled at each position they would hold. A brass oil lantern was given next; one to each, as well as a few matches. By now, night was upon them. Hawkeye put Finn in the living room under the lounger; the dog minded him as well as a Brotherhood of Steel recruit minds a paladin. They men bid each other good luck, and set out to their positions.

Once there, they waited.

* * *

**Four Hours Later **

A whisper, soft and urgent, came over the walkie-talkies.

"Turn that _fucking _light off!" The voice was Hawkeye's. Roger had accidentally kicked the bar in the kitchen, and had lit a lantern to check his stubbed toe. Embarrassed, he extinguished the flame.

The cabin went quiet again. Nothing moved, nothing even stirred, not even the dog. Hawkeye, leaning under a window, removed a hand from his assault rifle and stuck it under his arm to keep warm. Both hands had fallen asleep from gripping his weapon hard, and under his breath he berated himself for allowing that to happen.

From the windowsill he removed a pair of binoculars he had brought from his room. He raised them to his eyes, and he peered down the road. The sky was clear of clouds, revealing the stars and the moon, whose light lit up the usually heavy blanket of darkness. The binoculars and road showed nothing; not yet, at least. Sighing, Hawkeye replaced the binoculars back on the sill, and leaned his head against the wall under the window. His adrenaline was already flowing, causing sleep to be no concern.

In the kitchen, Roger was massaging his toe and cursing his stupidity. He had cleared off a section of the counter next to the window, and was sitting on it beside the open window. The chill nightly mountain air swept through, causing him to shiver slightly. He listened to himself breath, and watched the road and tree line that stood thirty yards away.

Upstairs, Bradley had opened the circular window, and had rested the hunting rifle on the sill, hanging inside and out. Hawkeye had failed to mention a couch rested against the wall next to the window, and so Bradley had to sit on it as he watched. Like the others, he listened to the sound of silence.

All three heard the sound at the same time. The sound that broke the sound of silence came as a loud metal _Clank! _followed by a yelp of pain. Hawkeye reacted smoothly, grabbing the binoculars and looking out the window. Bradley and Roger both jerked to look out of the windows.

The sound proved to be one of the metal bear traps. An unfortunate soul had stepped on the pressure plate inside, and the mechanism had slammed shut around his leg. His leg was almost certainly sliced off, if not at least shattered. Not the whole leg, just from the shin down.

Hawkeye saw them first. Three men, forward scouts, had traveled ahead of the raiding party. One was currently on the road, crouching from his friend's yell. Through the binoculars, it appeared he was talking to his wounded buddy, though Hawkeye could not hear what he spoke.

Another was in the trees to the left of the road, across from where Roger was. He was leaning with his back on a tree, the tree line and cabin behind him. Seeing him, Hawkeye conveyed his location to Roger over the walkie-talkies. The third scout was the man in the bear trap, on Hawkeye's side of the forest.

"Look alive," Hawkeye whispered over the radios. "We have visitors." Roger and Bradley acknowledged him.

The scout in the road was crouched, his eyes on the cabin. He held an assault weapon similar to the ones the people in the cabin wielded. A combat knife was strapped to his leg. In the way of armor, he didn't have much. Some thin jeans was it. No shirt, just the strap from the assault rifle. The other scouts were similar. This struck Hawkeye as odd. _Perhaps this is a less-skilled party from the bigger group? The leader sends these guys, not wanting to lend his higher-up guards and personnel. Probably because he thinks the two young guys with me are nothing to worry about. Hell, they probably don't think I'm even here... _he thought. And, little did he know, he was right on the money.

Five minutes passed before more men began to show up. They all went to where the scouts were; in the road, and on either side mixed with the trees. Two helped open the bear trap, and they examined their groaning comrade. The rest began moving towards the clearing, and ultimately the cabin.

Hawkeye waited for the moment the group in the road would cross the tripwire. It never came, however, for they stopped when they sent on the two groups moving in the trees forward. The men in the road crouched and aimed at the cabin. Hawkeye wondered if one of the others had managed to get a headcount. He wouldn't dare use the radios now, it would be too loud. He guessed they numbered from fifteen to thirty. A sizable group, and one that wouldn't be easily dealt with, no matter how trained and disciplined.

Once the two forest groups made the tree line, they began to spread out, and connected at the path to the cabin porch. It took three minutes for them to come within ten yards of the porch. Hawkeye hoped that neither of his accomplices became trigger-happy. Softly, he pulled his ten millimeter out of its holster and placed it on the edge of the window. He began to regulate his breathing, and focused.

Bradley had watched the slavers move from Hawkeye's warning, and now watched as two moved up the porch, slowly and quietly, to the door. The rest had fanned out across the front end of the house, aiming towards the front wall.

Roger was now off the counter and away from the window. Once the two had walked forward to the porch he had slid off and made his way to the entrance to the kitchen. From there, he watched the door. Next to him in the hallway sat the double-barreled shotgun. He raised the pump-action Hawkeye had given him, and pointed it towards the door. His heart beat louder as he saw the door handle begin to turn.

Silence lingered a few seconds longer, and then the door creaked open.

Two men, shaggy and skinny, stood at the door. One had been waiting with pistol drawn, watching as the other opened the door. They didn't see the shotgun sitting in the hallway until it fired. A loud _Boom! _shattered the silence, and a flash threw the two back from the door way. The mountain clearing came to life with gunfire.

It took the raiding party to gather what happened when the door was open, but they regrouped and began pouring lead into the cabin. Hawkeye ducked under the window as bullets slammed the ceiling and walls behind and above him. He began blind firing, raising the assault rifle above the window sill and firing without looking. It was ineffective.

Roger, immediately following the shotgun blast, had rushed to the door and slammed it. He had just dove back into the kitchen when gunfire resonated from outside and found its way inside. It seemed as if it were all around him, engulfing him. He knew it wasn't however. Staying low to the ground, he shuffled to the window.

Upstairs, Bradley waited for the shotgun before firing. He doubted that any slaver had bothered to check for an upstairs window. He began picking off the ones outside close to the house, doubting himself to shoot towards the trees.

Flashes of light were everywhere, and a sound of thunder had consumed the mountain, it seemed. The sharp crackle of assault weapons dominated the playing field, as well as the boom of a hunting rifle. Roger used his pump-action twice, on slavers who hopped the porch railing and had tried their hand at the door. Hawkeye used his ten millimeter to gun down the few slavers that remained at the porch; the rest fled to the safety of the tree line, braving the deadly crossfire between their comrades and their targets.

The Lone Wanderer soon realized that there were plenty more than he originally thought. They had already killed or wounded nearly twenty, but the element of surprise had been forfeited, and the slavers were regrouping. He saw them start back towards the cabin from the forest, and the group on the road ran up it as well. He smiled when he saw the slavers in the road get pitched in the air when the tripwire blew the frag mines. A huge ball of fire rose into the sky from the explosion, lighting up the firefight below. It barely ceased it, however. The slavers kept the heat turned on, and Bradley was forced from the window when splinters flew in his direction when they realized he was there.

The sounds of gunfire were deafening. Light shone from everywhere it seemed as the crossfire raged on and on. After twenty minutes, the slavers began picking targets and grouping shots on them. Hawkeye was pinned down as they started using this tactic. A few made a mad dash towards the door, and made it as they were covered.

Flinging open the door, three slavers ran in, looking for the people stupid enough to pick a fight with The Overlord. Hawkeye had stood up against the living room wall once he heard them on the porch, and called Finn over. The dog, seeing the three threats, charged. He sank his teeth into one, causing him to scream. Hawkeye threw an elbow at another as he walked into the living room, sending him backwards onto the floor. He raised his pistol and shot the third, ready to strike at Finn, who still had his teeth in one's leg. Hawkeye shot the last two before taking cover again. Finn went back to the lounger.

Roger was busy firing back as the slavers seemed to ignore him, and never noticed the three enter the cabin, or even notice Hawkeye and his canine take them out. As he fired, his worn assault rifle jammed, and he tossed it aside. Pulling out the .44 magnum Hawkeye had given him, he weighted it in his hand before beginning to fire. It felt nice, and proved to be lethal.

Bradley noticed that the slavers' numbers seemed to be decreasing. He picked up his rate of fire, barely taking time to aim. The hunting rifle was very accurate, and his less-than-satisfactory aim was pleased. Slavers darted back and forth in front of the house, and finally decided to try and return to the trees. This would prove a grave mistake, as the three in the cabin quickly dispatched them.

And almost as soon as it had begun, it was over.

For a few minutes, the cabin and its surrounding remained quiet. Smoke from gun barrels and bodies drifted away into the night sky. Finally, Bradley and Roger heard Hawkeye's voice call out through the cabin, not on the walkie-talkie.

"You guys good?" he asked, without a trace of edge in his voice.

The two responded by meeting up with him on the porch. They went about by lighting up the cabin with their lanterns as well as the normal stationary lanterns in the rooms. Hawkeye fetched a separate lantern from his storeroom, and hung it outside on the porch. Once lit, the three men and dog surveyed the carnage.

Bodies littered the ground outside. Close to fifty, from the porch all the way in the trees.

"Okay," Hawkeye began to give orders. "Go count the bodies. Bring any that aren't dead to the cabin. Find your leader person, and then make a burn pile off the path. I need some alcohol," he finished. When Roger began to walk off, Hawkeye pulled him back. He pointed to the kid's shoulder. "You're bleeding," he informed Roger. True enough, a bullet had entered the soft area underneath the shoulder blade, and had gone out the other side. A very clean shot. It didn't take long for the Lone Wanderer to administer the proper field care.

By the time they were done, the total had been forty-four dead slavers. Roger and Bradley stacked the dead, somewhat, in a pile that was burned by Hawkeye once he had his whiskey. Bradley found one alive; the man who had been stuck in the bear trap.

The wounded, dying slaver sat up against the porch. Hawkeye had not yet begun burning the dead; he was waiting for this one to die. Roger was questioning the man, and surprisingly he was talking.

"Where is your leader? Why didn't he come?" he asked.

The slaver coughed up blood, and stared back. The bear trap had really gotten him; from his shin down was only mangled, meaty leg matter. Sputtering and wheezing, the man finally answered.

"He sent us...thought we could deal with you..." he choked.

"How did he know where we were?"

"He kept a few scouts in the Capital...keep watch on you...kn - knew you would follow..."

"Where is he now? Daniels, where is he?" Roger asked firmly.

The dying man gazed into Roger's blue eyes. Death was upon him. Roger tried again, more assertive. "Where is he? Answer!" he yelled.

Fading, the slaver shrugged. "Don't know..." he coughed. "Said something about heading west...some huge slaving outfit...big business...lots of money..." he coughed again, this time more blood. Roger stood, looking at Bradley and Hawkeye. Both were staring at him.

Suddenly, the man jerked upright. "The light!" he gasped, and slumped over, dead.

The three stood over him, before Hawkeye solemnly picked the corpse up and took him to the burn pile. He took some oil from a lantern and poured it on the bodies, and threw a match on them. The resulting fire lit the entire area.

All, weary and sore, walked back into the cabin, and collapsed in the living room. They sat around not speaking, and just stared at each other.

"I guess," Hawkeye began. "You fellas have ambitions to chase that man west?" he asked. Roger and Bradley nodded.

"He has my brother, and he has Emily. I'll do anything to get them back. Plus, he killed my parents. He'll die by my hand," Roger answered. Hawkeye nodded.

"Well, I guess we have a lot to discuss, don't we?"

"Discuss what?" Bradley asked, as him and Roger threw a questioning glance.

"What we're going to do with you two,"

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to my new story. I am planning on having it as an accompanying fic for "I've Seen the Lights Go Out on Vegas," so make sure to read that one as well. As you can see, this won't be just in the Capital Wasteland. In fact, it will barely be there. It will take place across the American Wastes, as I see them. Hope you enjoy!**


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